Tonight
by vintagescarlett
Summary: When Scabior decided to go for a walk he didn't realise that he would meet the girl he had followed so closely during the past couple of weeks. Scabior/Hermione. One Shot.


**Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns the Harry Potter series. **

Walking away from that particular part of the forest made him realize that a mistake had been made. He glanced behind him, as if he had noticed an apparition in the distance. He had sensed a presence in that area after all. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him? The lack of sleep he received every night could account for that.

As they walked further along Greyback and the rest of the party decided to stop and set up camp. The rest of the snatchers retrieved firewood by raising their wands and shouting incantations into the night. Beside him, two snatchers were manually assembling a tent. Their wands had been confiscated the night before because they allowed a blood traitor to escape. Scabior kicked one of the pegs out of the ground, and one of the snatchers yelped as the tent collapsed.

"Should have received worse for letting that little blood traitor escape", Scabior sneered before walking towards Greyback who was sorting through their supplies.

"I'll be back later in the night. Let me know if there's any news from the Dark Lord," Scabior said.

Greyback snickered, and Scabior glared at him. Scabior knew that Greyback was an asset to the Dark Lord, but he had proved for many years that he was capable of catching a moderate number of blood traitors and Muggle borns.

"Where are you going anyway?" Greyback asked. "We've already covered that trail."

"Does it matter?" Scabior replied. He couldn't believe that the filthy werewolf questioned his motives when Greyback was the one who clearly favoured rash decisions over reasoning, and it was up to him to make sure that the other snatchers were not led astray.

As he ventured further away from the camp site, he attempted to pick up a scent that would lead him to something vaguely human. He found it strange that he could still smell the embers of the fire that the snatchers had built. Perhaps there was someone else out there? He lowered his wand, until the light at the end of it disappeared.

He moved through the forest as swiftly as he could, following the scent he had just picked up. Although he was used to traveling across rough territory, because it was the only way to carefully scour the land for prey, he found that this part of the forest seemed particularly uneven.

As he leaped off a log that obstructed his path, he could hear a faint rustling in the distance. He held his breath, and didn't dare move a muscle. After a few minutes, he decided to take a step forward. However he regretted his decision immediately, as his wand flew out of his hand, shot past the trees and landed several metres away.

Before he could shout at the person who disarmed him he sprinted forward. He tried his best to dodge the spells they yelled relentlessly at him, and he chuckled, as he detected the voice of a witch.

He took a sharp left, and hid behind a tree as he watched rays of coloured light fly past him. A few minutes passed, before the spells stopped. He turned his head slightly and noticed a girl standing in the middle of a clearing. She held two wands in her hand, and a look of fear marred her delicate features. He snickered. Although she seemed to know an abundance of spells, she lacked tact. He could easily reach her in a matter of seconds.

He watched as she began to retreat slowly. Just a matter of seconds and he would have her pinned to the ground. The pretty little thing would be the perfect end to a fairly unsuccessful day. Before he could take two steps toward her, he hit the ground. The back of his head hit a rock and he cursed loudly.

When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the tip of a wand. The girl's trembling hand contrasted starkly with the look of malice that contorted her features.

"Who are you?" she asked, hesitantly.

"I won't tell if you don't" he said.

She seemed surprise, and he took advantage of this distraction by apparating behind her, pushing her roughly to the ground and tearing both of the wands out of her hand.

The girl screamed as her body slammed against the ground and immediately brought her hand to her face. He crouched down beside her and watched as she whimpered.

The girl looked familiar.

He tenderly took her hand away from her face, and saw the large gash that ran from her eye to the corner of her lip. The girl whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut as he brought the tip of wand towards her cheek. He murmured a simple spell, and she screamed, before pressing her hand against her face again. A moment of confusion fell between them as she looked up at him.

He knew it. Her picture was on almost every yellowing page of the Daily Prophet. He couldn't wait to tell the others. This was his chance to impress the Dark Lord. She was the one who could lead him to the other blood traitor and Potter.

But something about capturing this girl right there and then, seemed wrong.

As he leaned towards her, he felt her breath warm his cheek, and he was content to stay in this position for a while. It was better than the cold nights, where he lay alone in his tent, and felt the disappointment of an unfruitful day seep through his veins.

She surprised him as she moved her head towards his and pressed her finger tips against his neck. The pressure of her finger tips against his skin forced his whole body to tense. She moved her hand towards his shoulder, so that she could lean in and place her lips against his cheek. Her lips quivered, and he gasped as her lips continued to travel downwards. He shivered as the edge of her teeth grazed his neck and he pulled her against him. But he found it curious how her eyes were downcast, and her cheeks seemed slightly rosier in the moonlight.

"I won't tell if you don't" she whispered, before taking her hand in his to remove her own wand.

She stood up and he watched as the darkness swallowed her, until he could barely make out the outline of her figure.

He wondered what he had become. He wondered how in one single moment he allowed lust to trump honour. Or perhaps it was loneliness that gnawed at his very core?

Because he wouldn't in a million years exchange the private moment he shared with the girl, to being recognized, as he rightly should, as a Death Eater. Not tonight.

**A/N: Probably the first and last Scabior/Hermione fanfic I will ever write.**


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